





I 


i i r i I 1 



THIS BOOK 
BELONGS TO 







I 







































lt)M Mitten’s 

Cousins/ 



PUBLISHED BY 

SAM’L GABRIEL SONS & COMPANY 


NEW YORK 


Sam’l Gabriel Sons & Co. 


MAY 


- 9*23 


©CH7Q7S89 


‘"Here Sonny,” said Mr. Greycoat, the postman, as he 
handed Tom Mitten a letter. “Take this in to your mother. 
Mind,—don’t lose it.” 




Tom had stopped chasing his tail long enough to take 
the letter from the postman’s hand. It was a pretty little 
envelope and had a sweet smell. 

“There must be something nice in this,” thought Tom, 
as he took it in to his mother, and Mrs. Mitten was all a 
flutter as she tore it open and read the letter. 

“My dear,” she said to her son Thomas, “we are to have 
company.” 






“Your aunt and cousins from the city will arrive this 
very afternoon to make us a little visit.” 

“It is a long time since I have seen sister Tabitha and 
we will have a nice long talk while you play with your cousins.” 



Come, I must dress you first and then I must hurry and make 
some muffins for tea.” 

Thomas, who preferred his own dear little fur coat to 
any of the uncomfortable clothes he sometimes had to wear, 
did not seem a bit pleased at this idea. 




He was even naughty enough to scold and scratch when 
his mother washed his neck and ears. 

“I hate company,” he grumbled, “girls anyway. What 
fun are they? They are afraid of caterpillars and they can’t 
do anything but just walk around and cry if you touch them.” 



“Tut! Tut!” said his mother, “that is not a bit nice, 
and besides, you never saw those little girls. They may be 
lots of fun.” 

Mrs. Mitten brushed Tom’s fur until it shone, and then, 
going to the closet, took out his best red velvet suit. 

“It’s too tight,” cried Tom, as he struggled into it, 
“and the collar tickles me. I hope all the buttons burst off, 
then I can’t wear it.” But the buttons were sewn on fast and 
tight. Mrs. Mitten sewed them on herself. 

“Now, my dear,” said his mother, after she had looked 
him over carefully, “no one could look finer. I’m sure your 
aunt and cousins will be delighted with you; that is, if you 



don’t forget your manners. Be gentle with the little girls and 
walk up nice and straight on your hind-legs and keep your 
clothes clean. You may go out on the porch now and wait 
for them while I make the muffins.” 





While poor Thomas was thinking of all the things he 
would like to do, but could not in such uncomfortable clothes, 
he fell asleep, and dreamt about little girls who cried because 
they got their hands dirty, and ran screaming into the house 
when a bee alighted on the flowers they were gathering. 








He had not been sleeping very long, however, when he 
was awakened by voices near the garden gate. 

“That must be the company,” he thought. “I guess 
I’ll just pretend to be asleep, keeping just the littlest bit of 
one eye open, to see what is going on.” 



Tom’s mother, who had heard the voices too, came run¬ 
ning out of the house at that moment. 

“My dear sister,” said she, “how delighted I am to see 
you,—and here are the twins,—how beautiful they are. They 
are just like you, my dear.” 

“Thomas, come meet your aunt and cousins.” 



Thomas, remembering what his mother had told him, 
came forward with his very best company manners. 

“What a fine manly little fellow he is,” said his aunt. 
“Dorothea and Angelina shake hands with your little cousin 
Thomas. When I last saw him I had no idea he would grow 
so handsome; with such grace and manners. He must come 
to visit us in the city.” 



“Suppose, Thomas,” said Mrs. Mitten, “you take your 
little cousins for a walk in the garden. Show them the flow¬ 
ers,—and perhaps you could find some cat-nip.” 

“Catnip! Catnip!” cried the little girls, dancing around 
and clapping their hands— 

“Catnip Tea—Catnip Tea, 

Very good for you and me,” 

then each taking hold of one of. Thomas’ hands, they started 
down the garden walk. \ ; 



Thomas began to think that it might be lots of fun to 
have company after all, if only he did not have to wear velvet 
suits and starched collars and cuffs. 

“Don’t go near the duck-pond,” called his mother after 
them, but they were too much interested in other things to 
hear her. 



Tom was telling his cousins about a young robin’s nest 
he had been watching all summer, and the fun he had chasing 
yellow butterflies down in the meadow, and about the light¬ 
ning bugs that flew around after dark. To all these things 
the little girls listened very eagerly. 

“I never saw a robin’s nest,” said Dorothea. 




“Never saw a robin’s nest?’’ repeated Tom. 

“No! We never did,’’ said Angelina. “You see we live 
in the city. Won’t you please take us to see one?” 

“Well,” said Tom, “You will have to climb a tree to 
see it, and maybe you might tear your dresses and your mother 
will scold.” 















“Oh fiddlesticks!”, cried Angelina, “if we do I can mend 
them. I have my sewing bag with me. You see, mother thought 
it would be nice to show Aunt Mitten how nicely we can sew.” 

By this time they had reached the tree where the robins 
had built their nest early in the summer. 

“This is the tree,” said Tom. “You wait while I climb 
up to see if they are home. Then if they are, I will help you 
both.” 





Grandmother Blue-Jay had been spending the day with 
her daughter and grand-children and was on her way home 
when she saw Thomas and his cousins. Thinking they were 
up to some mischief she waited until he had reached the lower 
branches, and then with a great screeching and fluttering of 
wings, she jumped on his back. 



She boxed his ears, and taking him by his beautifully 
ironed collar, shook him until he was dizzy and his collar 
badly torn. Then going back to where the children were peace¬ 
fully sleeping, she warned her daughter to have a sharp look¬ 
out for that bad little kitten boy. 

Tom climbed hastily down from the tree. Grandmother 
Blue-Jay had decided for him that it was not best to look for 
the robins that day. 


He was really scared and I think he might even have 
cried if the little girls had not been along. 

“Let’s see if we can find some butterflies,” said Tom. 
“I think that would be a lot of fun.” 

“But you said you would show us a robin’s nest,” said 
Dorothea. 

“I know I did,” said Tom, “but that old busybody, 
Grandmother Blue-Jay, did not treat me, very kindly and 
I don’t think you would care to meet her.” 



“Does she own that tree?” asked Angelina. 

“No, she just thinks she does,” said Tom. “We will 
watch until she goes home and then go up and see the robins, 
and maybe the baby blue-jays too.” 

“Let’s not think any more about it,” said Angelina. 
“Oh, there is a yellow butterfly,” and off she started with a 
run and a jump after it. 



She fell down, skinned her knee and got grass stains on 
her pretty little apron, but she did not mind that—it was 
such fun to be out in the country where they had the beauti¬ 
ful green fields to play in. 

Where they lived in the city there were only hard stone 
courts, and no flowers or birds or butterflies. 



“I’m tired,” said Angelina, after they had been chasing 
the butterfly for a while. “So am I,” said Dorothea, almost 
out of breath. 

“Suppose we climb up on this stone wall and tell stories 
while we rest,” said Tom. 

So up they went—tearing their aprons and petticoats 
as they climbed. 


/ 



Tom did not do quite as much damage to his clothes as 
the little girls, but he did lose so many buttons that he was 
compelled to take off his coat. 

“Give it to me,” said Angelina. “I’ll sew the buttons 
on while we rest,” and she picked up a button here and there 
that Thomas had lost. 

“I have them all but one,’’said she as she carefully threaded 
her needle. 





“Never mind that,” said Tom. “Mother will find another; 
besides I wish I never would wear this coat again, it is so un¬ 
comfortable. There’s no fun being dressed up, is there?” 

And the girls agreed with him that they would rather 
just wear their little fur coats and not have to be so particu 
lar. 



“Suppose you tell us a story while I sew on the buttons,” 
said Angelina. “I’m sure you must know lots of interesting 
things to tell about.” 


“All right,” said Tom. “Would you like to hear about 
Bobby Field-Mouse and the birthday cake?” 

“Oh yes, that sounds fine,” said Dorothea. 

“Well, you see, it was this way,” began Tom. “I knew 
where Bobby and his family lived, down in the corn-field, and 
I wanted to surprise mother with something for her birth¬ 
day that she just loved. 



“So early that morning I went down in the field and 
hid in the corn just back of Bobby’s house. I had only been 
there a little while when out came Bobby. He was going to 
the baker’s for a loaf of bread for breakfast. I followed him 
very quietly until he was a little distance away from the house, 
and then I pounced on him.” 




“You did?”, said Dorothea, her eyes as wide as they 
could be, “what did he say?” 

“Not a word,” said Thomas, “I guess he was too badly 
frightened to say a word, but I carried him home, and— 

“Oh, look!”, said Tom, grabbing each little girl by the 
hand, “do you see that?” 

“See what?”, they whispered. 



“That little squirrel,” answered Tom, pointing to the 
little red animal running along the top of the stone wall. 
“Let’s catch him and take him home for supper.” 

But Mr. Squirrel, who had very sharp ears, heard them 
and started up the tree,—Tom and the twins after him— 
Tom in the lead. 



In and out among the branches the little squirrel dashed, 
seeing a pussy cat at every turn. Finally he made one dash 
for his house in the hollow of the tree. Tom dashed after him, 
but just as he jumped, his new velvet pants caught on a branch, 
and he hung in the air, kicking wildly for some place to put 
his feet. 





This so amused the twins that they laughed until the 
tears rolled down their cheeks. 

“I don’t think it very funny,” said Tom, “I can’t get 
loose. One of you will have to help me.” 

It was quite difficult for them to reach Tom, for they 
had not had much experience in climbing trees, and their 
dresses always got in their way. 



But they finally did reach him, and both tried lifting 
him to loosen him from the branch,—but try as hard as 
they could, they did not seem to be able to help him a bit. 

Finally Dorothea remembered that she had a pair of 
scissors in her sewing bag. 

“I’ll just cut your pants a little bit,” she said, and 
that will let you down.” 



Snip went the scissors and bump went Tom. Of course 
he had prepared himself for the fall and landed on all fours, 
but it hurt just the same, and for a few minutes he sat there 
very quiet. 


Mr. Squirrel sat very quiet also, inside of his door, peep¬ 
ing through the keyhole until he saw the twins go down from 
the tree and sit beside Tom to comfort him. 

“Smarty! Smarty!” called Tom, looking up at him, 
“I’ll catch you some day,—and then look out!” 

“Sticks and stones!” laughed Mr. Squirrel, and darted 


off. 



“Maybe we had better be starting for home,” said Tom, 
who began to feel that he had enough experiences for one 
day,—“besides, I think it is going to rain.” 

“Oh don’t go yet. I want to see the ducks,” said Ange¬ 
lina. 

“Oh, yes,” cried Dorothea, clapping her hands, “we 
must see the ducks.” 

“All right,” said Tom,—“but you must not touch the 
little ducks, for old Jenny Dilly Duck is very, very cross.” 



It was not very far to the duck-yard, and they just got 
nicely inside the gate, when Mrs. Dilly Duck saw and started 
for them. They could see by the look on her face that she was 
very angry, and the three kittens were very frightened indeed. 



Tom and Angelina went one way and poor little Dorothea 
the other, with Mrs. Dilly quacking loudly at her heels. 

Dorothea ran so fast that she forgot to look where she 
was going, until she tripped and fell with a splash headlong 
right into the pond. 



Fortunately it was not deep, but it seemed like a long, 
long time to Dorothea before she finally reached the other 
side of the pond where she scrambled out, losing her apron 
in the excitement. 

She did not stop long enough to even pick it up, but ran 
as fast as she could to the gate, where Tom and Angelina were 
waiting for her. 



“Oh Dorothea!”, cried Angelina, throwing her arms about 
her sister. “I was so frightened when I saw you fall into that 
pond. Thomas said it wasn’t deep, but I was afraid you would 
drown.” 

By this time it had started to rain. 

“I know a good place to go,” said Tom, “until the shower 
is over. Old Farmer Taylor has a big umbrella on his vege¬ 
table wagon.” 



“We can all get under that and keep nice and dry and 
warm,” said Dorothea, who was wet and cold and almost 
shivering. 

“You can sit between Tom and me,” said Angelina, 
“and we will snuggle up close until the shower is over, and 
Tom can finish telling us his story.” 



Mrs. Mitten and her sister had been so busy talking 
over old times since the children left, that they had not missed 
them until it began to rain. 



“Oh, my dear,” said Mrs. Mitten, “it is raining and the 
children have not come back yet. I wonder where they can 
be? I hope they are under shelter, but perhaps we had better 
go look for them. I will put on this shawl and you take my 
raincoat.” 

“Such a bother!”, said her sister Tabitha, who hated 
to be disturbed, “they should be spanked.” 



They were not alarmed at first when they did not find 
them, but when Mrs. Tabitha saw Dorothea’s little pinafore 
hanging on Mrs. Dilly Duck’s clothes line, she felt sure some¬ 
thing dreadful had happened to her darling. 

“I am sure that horrid old duck woman has eaten them,” 
she said 

‘‘I hardly think that,” said Mrs. Mitten, “but I do 
wish we could find them.” 



“We’ll try the barnyard. Maybe they have gone there 
to play.” 

They searched everywhere—in the yard and then in the 
barn, in the mangers, in the hayloft* and finally, in the wagon 
shed. There Mrs. Tabitha found them curled up fast asleep 
under the umbrella in Farmer Taylor’s wagon. 




“Poor tired little dears,” said she, “but whatever have 
they been doing? Just look at their clothes!” 

“Come children, wake up and tell us where you have 
been,” but they were all so sleepy that she just gathered a 
little girl up under each arm and Mother Mitten took her 
tired little boy, and they all started back to the house. 



jlToVE-vv 

■sM. Another 


“We will give them some toast and catnip tea, and put 
them right straight to bed,” said Mother Mitten. 

“And ask questions in the morning,” said Mother Tab. 

After the kittens were brought into the nice, warm house 
and given catnip tea and toast, the mother cats undressed 
them and put them into their soft white beds, and they were 
soon in Slumberland, dreaming of their adventures of the 
afternoon. 
































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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